


Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

by ukenceto



Series: Love beyond the bones [13]
Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: Depression, Flashbacks, Gen, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukenceto/pseuds/ukenceto
Summary: A glimpse at Marcus' life just before JD, Del and Kait reach him in Gears 4.
Series: Love beyond the bones [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1025247
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

***

* * *

The fruit under his fingers caved inward, the flesh of it soft, a mush barely held together by frail skin. Still warm from a whole day in the sun, it evoked a deep sense of unease, his mind swimming in distraught.

The sensation seemed to have reached some memory buried deep inside, causing this almost hindbrain reaction, his brow suddenly clammy.

Letting the rotten apple drop from his fingers back on the ground, and amidst many others, Marcus stood up, swaying for a brief moment.

Lifting his hands, he was about to rub his eyes when he saw it – blood, crimson red coating his palms, dark under his fingernails, dripping down his arms. The sharp metallic scent of copper filling the air, making him gag.

Shutting his eyes, Marcus struggled to breathe, his mind flooding with images of gore; of a body in his arms, or what was left of it.

Of flesh and sinew torn from bone, of a heart that had been beating not but a moment ago. Of moist earth, steaming as the blood seeped into it.

A name, stuck in the back of his throat, like a knife wound deeply enough to mute him.

Stepping back, he opened his eyes at the sound of branches snapping. A sudden gush of wind passed through the trees, lifting up the dead leaves all around him in a momentary vortex.

And then it was over, gone as if it had never been.

Looking back down, Marcus saw that his hands were bare, nothing but a speck of dirt where he’d touched the ground while gathering the fallen fruits. Slowly lifting them up to his face, he breathed in.

Only the faintly sweet scent of the apples lingered behind.

Sighing, he rested his hands on his hips, simply standing still for a long moment, feeling his heartbeat struggle to return to normal pace. Looking up at the sky, he saw the last of the sunlight which had reflected nearly purple in a few wayward clouds, dim down, leaving nothing but the soft blue of the twilight.

A couple of stars already glimmered bright, deceptively calm in the warm evening.

But he knew better. A sunset like that meant more wind, maybe even a storm. Most likely, a windflare.

Marcus thought he should gather all the apples before that happens, no point in letting them go to waste. Yet he found himself reluctant to do so, his back seized by a momentary shiver, an ache in his muscles brought on by the residual tension after the flashback.

He never did handle those well, even after such a long time.

Leaving the wooden bucket with the apples where it was, he went inside the house instead, reaching for a mug before the door had even had time to close.

The cider was cool and fuzzy as he drank, the liquid soothing his parched throat. Give it enough time, and it would lull his thoughts too.

Reaching for the bottle, Marcus crashed into the chair next to the fireplace, not bothering with the lights. Didn’t really need them, not when he was all on his own anyways. The small docking station across from him was flashing blue, the sign of a new message. He didn’t want to know, not right now at least.

Pouring himself another cup, he felt the exhaustion of a day’s work in his body, and the soft, worn surface of the chair having contorted to fit snuggly around him. He watched the sky through the frosted windows, as it slowly changed to ink blue, the room now fully bathed in darkness.

The twin moons peaked through the clouds, casting a ray of light which was just enough to contour the vague shapes of everything around him.

Marcus reached for the warmed metal under his shirt, finger tracing the cog’s edges absentmindedly, even though he knew them by heart already. The lines and grooves of the letters etched into the metal, the two wheels overlapping. But the tags didn’t both bear the same name.

Suddenly, the screen of the computer flashed to life, getting his attention. It showed the feed from the cameras placed in his lands, and the one right above the house’s front door. The motion detectors had picked up something, and this time, it was clear that it wasn’t just a wild animal crossing through.

The way the figures moved told him plenty. It was no foe either.

Sighing, he watched them approach, not bothering to get up.

Then, the door opened with a long creak, letting in the chill night air.

“Welcome home, James.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do those games ever address characters dealing with their trauma? Barely? Well here's a little something, acknowledging that struggle being a part of Marcus' life.
> 
> Picked this scene specifically because there was something that disturbed me when I first saw the apples he'd left half-picked near the tree. And him being like, casually chillin in the dark right as the squad gets there??


End file.
